


Axios

by Decada



Category: Halo, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decada/pseuds/Decada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The troubles of a young man in times of war against humanity's greatest enemy, the Ma'ata.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Through Knowledge, Victory. Through Unity, Peace.  
Honor, Valor, Allegiance.  
Today. Tomorrow. Forever.  
Together We Rise. Together We Prevail.  
Forward Unto Dawn.  
From Earth, For Earth.  
Honor, Valor, Allegiance, Excellence.  
Today. Tomorrow. Forever.  
Together We Rise. Together We Prevail.  
Forward Unto Dawn.  
From Earth, For Earth.  
Honor, Valor, Allegiance, Excellence.  
From Earth, For Earth.  
Today. Tomorrow. Forever.  
Together We Rise. Together We Prevail.  
Forward Unto Dawn  
-  
[Recording Start]

They say that I'm a problem child. 

And by “they”, I mean pretty much anyone I had a terrible run-in with over the past couple years, starting up from the time I started my growth spurt and realized that I'm able to do whatever I want. That could be anyone and everyone, thinking about it: school counselors, churchgoers, the neighbors, the neighbor's ugly-as-all-parts-of-Hell helioshound.

Friends and family...

I sort of wish that these folks would understand that in this small farm town, there's really nothing better to do, and I'm honestly not the type to just sit around and wait until something interesting happens. But I guess tagging the school wall with a piss-poor ugly face wasn't the best way to get my point across, heh heh...

So, everyone got sick of me and my “antics”- my fathers' word, not mine- and the best way to handle me was by sending me here. If it got them into tip-top shape, they hoped the same would happen for me.

Admittedly, I don't really want to be in the Corbulo Academy, but since I'm here, I guess I will have to make the best of it. It would be fascinating to see what challenges I can get into and overcome, find out about myself with their military training, and I do love science, so there's a plus. 

My name is Peter Kirkland, and I am a Level 10 cadet of The Corbulo Academy of Military Science and Training.

[Recording End]  
-


	2. Chapter One

It is so damn hard to sneak around in this small town, do you know that? 

There are so many problems that come with trying to get to where I need to be, and it sucks. One, every single building that isn't in the “business” area of town is low and tiny, mostly townhouses and cottages that don't provide enough coverge for me to hide behind as I move about. Two, every single citizen and their pets are terrified of a possible “boogeyman” popping out of the darkness to attack them, so they're all pretty damn vigilant when it comes to taking down unknown figures moving around in the middle of the night; if they hear one thing out of place or the weird beasts they domesticated start howling and screeching, they go to their windows with their government-issued Machine Pistol ready to shoot anything down- namely, me. 

But there is a way for one to get around the neighbors and their rabid dogs and canipedes. Already standing on the border between the farming sections and the steel sections, I held up my wrist to look at the reader. I swiped my fingers over the screen and watched as a holographic map of the farming section popped alive. A couple more taps of my fingers produced blinking dots for which cabin and cottage had pets I needed to be wary of. One more tap, and it cleared to just the homes and their pets that were going to be in my path I had marked. Okay, house pets determined.

I shut off the watch and dug in my backpack, pulling out little baggies of various animal food and treats and holding them at arm's length; I really do hope that my research on the bizarre pet food was right, because it had better be worth the disgusting mixed stench that I'm sure is going to be in my backpack for weeks. With a quick look around, I yanked my hoodie over my head and held on tight to the baggies. I started running. The holographic map was clear in my mind as I raced down the dirt path, using whatever illumination coming from the houses' windows and the stars above to light my way. In some sort of weird way, it was beautiful, just me running through the grass and mud, finding solitude in the silent black night under the bright, twinkling lights-

In the corner of my eye, I spotted a shadow moving between the fence boards of one of the houses I was passing. According to the map and the little notes I took on the pets down this way, it had to be the von Bocks and their goddamned science experiment Rovereen. Good, I have something for the little bastard, too. I took out a couple slices of frozen meat I had in a specially-marked bag and tossed it over the fence just as I can hear its footsteps come up to me. The meat busied the beast's stretchable mouth long enough to keep it quiet, but the little sleep syrup I marinated it in should put it right out in a few minutes for the rest of the night, meaning no creepy, cackle-like calls to alert anyone on my way back.

A couple houses down, I came up to the Braginsky's residence, and can already hear the low warning rumble of their Doberman. I switched the bags and ducked low when I noticed someone coming up to the window, hoping that the fence's shadow could conceal me. When that passed, I tossed a large tranquilizer wrapped in some foreign alien meat over the fence to him and smiled at the slobbery smacking of the dog enjoying its treat.

And my run to my destination has been like that for a while, my tossing sleep-inducing food over the fence of homes that had noisy pets and ducking beneath or behind whatever cover I can find, and possibly stepping on a few heads of lettuce or radishes that I honestly didn't try to ruin. It was a tiring run, too; even though this was one of the shortest routes I ever took in my years of doing this, I still got so winded that my lungs were starting to burn and the sweat on my brow started to soak my hoodie whenever it bounced against my forehead. But it was going to be worth it; just up ahead, I can see another border, where the farming sector of this town met with the metropolitan area, and after spending months in the townhouse of the steel mining and manufacturing sector, it was a beautiful sight to see. The town's busy lights were out for now, but there were still plenty of lights from random homes and buildings to give it a beautiful glow. After coming up to the last house and dumping the last bit of pet food into their yard, I dropped the empty food bags and walked the last distance between there and the wooden fence that separated the farm sector from the metropolitan. I climbed over the fence and walked over to the concrete waterway, sitting on the edge of it and sliding down its slope. I landed and started running again to get out of the waterway and climb onto the other side; my legs were getting so sore from the running and now the steep climb I had to do, but it was going to be perfectly fine.

I reached the top and shirked my bag higher up on my shoulder, feeling satisfaction from the metallic clinking from my toys inside. With my hand firmly grasping my bag strap, I headed towards the city glow, keeping my eyes open for the perfect spot. Once I actually came to the city and started roaming around the buildings and their blank walls, it was clear that I had so many options to choose from, but I had to be sure it was perfect; I haven't been able to do this for so long under my fathers' constant watch, and now that I managed to snatch up this much freedom for tonight, I want to make it as memorable as possible, while doing it in a place that won't catch anyone's attention. This meant sneaking through so many alleys, cutting through the actual buildings, and going past houses and hope no one finds me- even though there were less pets over here, that didn't stop the city residents from being just as watchful as the farm residents- until I finally realized that there was only one place that I wanted to hit tonight.

So, taking out my watch again and passing my fingers over them, I tapped out the coordinates for the new target and created a path for where I am to where I wanted to be. It was a few blocks away, which would've been nothing if I hadn't made my feet sore from earlier running and walking around. But it was going to be worth it, I kept assuring myself, and this time I believed it; the target I finally chose for tonight was perfect to unleash all my stress on, and the people who ran it deserve what I had planned for them. I headed down the blocks and the familiar buildings I passed every day until I walked up to the property I needed to be in. 

It's funny how in this part of the town, every building is pretty and grand and awestrucking to the eyes of the person that rarely gets to be there, but this place, this cinder block place that would have served better as a jail center, was so ugly and bland standing against it all. Or maybe I just hate it because it was my school. It would definitely be because it was my school. It didn't matter, though, because I was finally here to pretty it up. Going up to one of the walls, I pulled my mask up to my nose and dropped my bag at my feet, the bag's mouth loosening up and letting a couple cans of spray paint roll out. I stopped them with my foot and picked them up, giving them a quick shake to stir up the paint as I tried to think of something to put on this ugly cream-colored thing that was currently light blue in the night's darkness.

...What do I put on the school wall that's unique and funny and hasn't been said by the school's students every day there? I had to give the “wardens” my own message, tell them off so it would be worth the trip. As I thought of the message I wanted to spray paint on the wall, I already got started on my little signature tag. I drew a circle for the face and added little devil horns to the top of the head. I drew a angry face in the circle, eyes squeezed shut and a little tongue sticking out. I stepped back and gazed at my work so far, still working something out in my head to put on the damn thing. Raising the spray can up again, I started writing something above my tag when the wall suddenly lit up by flashing lights behind me.

The lights made me drop my spray cans and raise my hands above my head. “Damn,” I said under my breath as footsteps started approaching me...  
-  
I wish the authorities weren't so rough when they were handling their charges, but I guess that I should count my blessings that stuffing me in the back of the Jeep and holding me down so I don't jump out while they drove is the worse they were going to do to me. After the long drive- which would have been shorter if instead of taking the highway and road, they took my shortcut, but driving over the farm crops might be bad for the economy- they drove through the mining and manufacturing sector and pulled up to my house; along the way, one of my oh-so favorite chummy officers, Officer Kristoff, held me down in my seat and gave me a reprimand that I'm pretty sure I was going to hear from my fathers, anyway.

We arrived to my home. Officer Kristoff yanked me out of the car and dragged me along the walkway, holding me up when I almost tripped on the stones.

“You know, if I get a nasty bruise there,” I started, nodding to my upper arm where Kristoff was gripping it tightly with his massive hand, “I can sue the city for mistreatment and you can lose your job!”

“Yeah, and if we catch you fooling around with vandalism one more time,” the officer retorted, “this can go on your record and you'll lose a lot of privileges to get a decent future around here.” He gave my arm one more jerk before we stopped in front of the door. He gave a few sharp, loud raps on the door and looked down at me with annoyed eyes. 

I gazed back up at him with a cheerful smile on my face and my head cocked to the side as we waited. “Well, it looks like I better not get caught next time then, doesn't it?”

“Was that a confession, child?”

I was about to answer when we started hearing shuffling behind the door. I straightened up (more like the officer yanked me up until my posture was straightened) to face the inevitable. I heard a soft, deep swear behind there and the door swung open to one of my fathers, the one I call “Papa”, staring at me with his forever-hard yet sleepy blue eyes. He was completely slumped, trying to fight his sleepiness as he sighs.

The slight annoyance I felt for being caught evaporated instantly when I saw my father, my head hanging to avoid seeing his exhaustion. As tired as he looked, he was still in his dusty factory uniform, his glasses pushed up to his unusually-sloppy hair. I swallowed and looked down, wishing that I had somehow came back home sooner before he did; get my work done on that wall and turn around before the authorities caught me and dragged me back on that longer route.

It didn't help my guilt when I noticed that Papa took a deep breath to hide his yawn and rubbed at the corner of his eyes. “Dammit Peter, now you come home,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and meeting the officer's gaze. “Thank you, sir, for bringing him home again-”

“Mr. Oxensteirna, you are aware that your son was caught in the act of vandalism, violation of Law 3-16.”

I finally lifted my head as I rolled my eyes. Damn, not this shit again.

“Yes, Officer Kristoff,” Papa said, exasperation filling his voice. “We go through this every-”

“And as such, you should be aware of the 3-16 Law, which states that all public property- and select few private properties, bestowed to owners by our government- are under the government's insurance and protection, and that no citizen has a right to destroy the property-”

“We know the law, Kristoff,” I said, matching my father's previous exasperation.

“-with any form of damaging vandalism, including but not limited to marking, arson, unlicensed demolition-”

“Officer Kristoff, I've read the law just as much as you have-”

Christ, it was like the bastard didn't even hear anything besides his own repetitive droning as he continued to say, “-and public urination and defecation. Violation of this rule may lead up to five years imprisonment and one thousand hours of community service, as much as I regret to inform you.”

I scoffed. “ 'Regret to inform' ” I say under my breath since Kristoff wouldn't be able to hear me either way. “We all know you just love to hear yourself talk.” I snickered at my own statement, but in the growing silence, I looked over to the officer to find his eyes set hard on me, but only for a few seconds. 

I smiled and raised my eyebrows. Whoops, looks like I wasn't all that quiet.

Officer Kristoff squeezed my arm quickly so Papa wouldn't see, and shoved me into the doorway. “You know, you won't stay underage forever, Kirkland, and you won't have your fathers to protect you-”

“Yes, yes, he knows, Kristoff,” Papa cut in as he pulled me into the house and started closing the door. “Thank you for bringing him back, and goodnight.” He finally shut the door in that guy's face, pausing as he left his hand on the knob. He stayed like that for a few moments as I awkwardly shifted my weight from one foot to the other, wondering if he actually fell asleep where he stood, but he didn't. 

He turned to me and watched me, his whole upper body trying to keep straight as exhaustion was obviously finally getting to him. 

I might as well save him the last few minutes of energy. I turned away and started to walk. “I'm heading to my room-”

“Peter. Come here.”

I stopped, hesitating to turn as I heard the angry undertone in his demand. “...Can't it wait until tomorrow?” I tried. “You really need your sleep-”

“Come. Here.”

I let out a soft sigh as I turned back around, stepping right back on the spot that Papa pulled me into as I stood straight and eyed him. Thankfully he was too tired to appear as angry as I think he really was; there was something about those eyes that make me want to escape to my room whenever they were filled with rage, even when I've lived with him long enough to know that he doesn't act with violence.

He crossed his muscular arms and tensed his jaw, his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to work out how exactly he was going to word his disappointment. The longer he waited, the more uncomfortable I became in the silence; he wasn't even questioning me, and I already felt like I want to confess everything I did tonight, from drugging the neighbors' animals with some anesthesia I bought for tonight's run to the graffiti I didn't get to finish- and probably won't, at this point- on the school's wall. I started to cross my arms, too, but I pursed my lips and shifted my weight back to my right leg, taking a look around the small living room's various vases and knick knacks. Wow, all these years and I never realized how odd and ugly they were.

The silence was only for a few seconds, but I couldn't take it anymore. I quickly turned my gaze to my father. “How's Mum-”

“Peter you shouldn't-”

We both stopped, falling back to the silence. I exhaled softly through my nostrils and Papa gestured for me to continue.

“...How's Mum?” I simply asked.

Papa let out a short “hm” before actually replying, “He's upstairs asleep. He couldn't wait up very long and had work early tomorrow, but he wants you to know that he's very disappointed in you and tomorrow, we're going to determine your punishment.

“In fact, we had something we wanted to talk to you about before you left without warning. I could tell you right now, but I'm starting to get tired, too.” He yawned and rubbed his fingers on his temples. “And I don't want to stay up even longer just to argue with you over it.”

“What makes you think I'm going to argue with you over it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I started holding my breath in anticipation, wondering just how bad this punishment was going to be.

Papa shook his head. “I'll tell you tomorrow when you and your brother get back from school; we're going to have a family discussion about this. Until then, just know that what you keep doing is awful and I wished you learned some other way to pass the time or show your teenage angst or whatever the hell this behavior is coming from; Arthur didn't send you out here to raise hell, and I wished you learn that already.” He ran his fingers through his short hair and walked past me. “I'm going to bed. You're doing the same. Goodnight, or morning, or whatever time it is...”

I stood alone in the living room as Papa's footsteps trudged up the stairs nearby, ending in a door shutting a little too loudly for him to truly be calm. I wondered if that thing he just did was something all parents do to their children, make them wait for their punishment until the anxiety was built up enough? I shook it off and headed up the stairs, too. I went into my bedroom and started pulling my hoodie over my head.

“Mum was so pissed, you know.”

I stopped, pulling my hoodie back down just enough to see the room's other occupant lying on his bed, his arms folded under his head as he stared at me. He didn't have a smirk on his face- at least from what I can see in the weak moonlight coming from the window- but his voice was heavy with contempt. 

I pulled the hoodie off and tossed it over my desk chair's back, where I heard it slipped off and fall to the floor. I started shedding off my pants. “Shouldn't you be asleep, Erland?”

He sat up on his bed, angling his head and raising an eyebrow. “I can literally ask you the same thing right now.”

“Yeah, well, no need to,” I said, leaving my pants in a pile as I yanked my blankets back on the bed to crawl under them. I shifted around until I was lying comfortably and finally returned my attention to Erland, who was still just lying there and watching me. “...Wait a second, you didn't wait up for me, too, did you?” Because if he did, I swear to god...

Erland shrugged. “I had to; do you know how hard it is to fall asleep when Mum's swearing his little heart out after finding out you left in the middle of the night? And Papa's so pissed all I could hear was his yelling turning into grumbling.”

“Ha ha, really?” I turned onto my back, staring up at the ceiling and the silvery stars painted on them. “They were that pissed, huh?”

I can hear Erland moving his his bed to lie down, too. “Oh, hell, yes,” he laughed. “It was horrible. Couldn't your graffiti thing have waited until the weekend, at least? You wouldn't have gotten in trouble for leaving if you had played it smart and waited for when you usually go out.”

I shrugged. “I doubt it; you know how Papa is with making us do chores during the weekend; every little thing has to be right before we could leave, and I wouldn't have enough time to do what I needed to. I would've gotten in trouble either way, anyhow.”

“Hm...”

The room grew silent, thankfully this time I wasn't being crushed by my father's wrath. Erland's breathing became soft in the bed next to me, but I knew he was still up; the guy isn't snoring like a growling Banshee.

“Hey, Erland?”

“Mm, what?”

I looked over to him, which was pointless; whatever left of his face I could see was covered by the pillow. “Do you know about... what punishment they're going to give me tomorrow?”

Erland pushed his head away from the pillow. Only slightly; he seemed too tired to sit upright again. “What? They haven't told you when you got back?”

I shook my head. “Nuh uh; Mum apparently went to bed early, and Papa said he was going to tell me tomorrow.”

“Then it's confidential information, kid,” said the guy who was literally a couple of years younger than me. “It can wait until tomorrow, then.” With that, he laid his head on the pillow again, sliding his arms under it for extra leverage.

I scrunched my nose at both the “kid” and the way he just withheld the information from me. “It's not really confidential, is it? Come on, Erl, tell me; what are they going to do to me tomorrow?”

He was silent again, so I asked again. All I got from the second time I asked was some mumbling. 

“What?”

“I said,” Erland said, moving his mouth away from the pillow, “They're transferring you...”

I raised an eyebrow. “Transferring me? Transferring me to where?”

Then came the rumbling banshee growl of Erland's snoring, leaving me to be curious and terrified of what may come the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

Well, this was a pleasant surprise. Oh, no, wait, it wasn't. It really, _really_ wasn't pleasant _in any sense of the word_.

All day long while I was taking classes, I continued to wonder what it was that my parents had in store for me. With Mum gone to work early, Papa not speaking to me, and Erland apparently sworn to secrecy, I had no one to talk to about what I had to look forward to when the school day was over with, nor any idea of what I'm supposed to vent about. I couldn't even focus well enough on my schoolwork to half-ass it, all my attention and energy on trying to prepare for the worse.

Halfway through the school day, I managed to ease my fear enough to realize that maybe it wasn't as bad as I was making it out to be; maybe I was so exhausted by the very few hours of sleep I managed to grab that anything that sounded remotely vague was going to set me off. So I held on to that little belief for the rest of the day, feeling a little bit better about the punishment coming my way.

Oh, how quickly did that relief evaporated when I returned home to my fathers sitting at the dining table, Erland standing beside Mum, and my uncles, who were dressed neatly in their crisp military uniforms, standing in attention behind them. As soon as I had entered the room, I slowed down my pace, looking into each of their eyes as I reached the table and settled into one of the chairs across from them.

“So... what's this about?” I asked, sliding my bag off my shoulder and letting it fall to the floor. I folded my hands on the table and watched as everyone exchanged glances- probably trying to see which one will break the horrible news to me- and started rising up from my seat. “If it's nothing, I'd like to go-”

Mum pointed stiffly at the table. “Sit down, Peter.”

Ever wonder what it's like to sit face to face with a gúta just on the edge of aggression, where they have this calmness about them that's unsettling because you can sense that they're prepared to rip any living thing apart with their uni-clawed hands and tusks? It's honestly like that when Mum has a straight face but uses his “Do not test me, boy, or I will do something highly illegal to you and get away with it with my honestly adorable face” tone. I sat right back down and looked down at the table, feeling Erland's amused and contemptuous stare bored into me.

“Peter, after some discussion,” Mum spoke again, this time actually much more calmly, “Berwald and I decided that maybe it's time we transfer you to a new school.”

Without lifting my head much, I looked over to Erland. Oh, he wasn't staring at me in amusement; he wasn't even looking in my direction. Instead, he was looking over Mum's shoulder, trying to read something that was on the table that I hadn't even noticed. Whatever Erland was trying to read, Mum shoved it out of his sight and closer to me; it was a communication pamphlet, a little forest green plastic square with a star and geometrical lines surrounding it- the UNSC star insignia I've seen so many times around the house, especially in my fathers' diplomas- embedded on the top part.

“You remember the Corbulo Academy, don't you?” Papa asked. Mum pressed the silver star logo on top and some hidden camera activated, flashing a holographic visual to life. A globe glowed above the black screen of the comm pamphlet as the tiny camera projected it. Paired with the glowing holographic globe was an audio of trumpets playing some fanfare tune.

I leaned forward and folded my arms on the table, narrowing my eyes as I watched the globe spin. “What the hell-”

“ _Welcome to the Corbulo Academy of Military Science and Training,_ ” a woman's voice suddenly spoke in the audio. The trumpets faded to the background as the visuals transitioned to other things, flashing photos of the school buildings and dormitories and the large satellites atop various centers. “ _Here, we provide the utmost training and teachings of strategies and weaponry that only agents of the military and government can expect for their children, continuing the knowledge of scientific defense for generations to come and keep the protection of the human race growing strong._ ”

Then the audio went to explaining how their school system worked, listing a few of their curriculum and famed instructors and trainers as videos of happy uniformed students rolled on. As it continued, I placed my chin in my hand and watched, occasionally looking up to the unusually silent three behind my immediate family who just stood there as if awaiting orders. Maybe I just thought so because of the uniforms they were wearing.

When it ended, I switched the pamphlet off before it could replay its shitty promotion and refolded my hands on the table, smiling at my fathers and letting the silence linger for a few moments. “...So, let me get this straight: you guys can't stop me from drawing on a few walls here and there, so you're going to send me off to be trained to kill.” The tone in my voice was thick with fake pleasantry.

Mum sighed and rolled his eyes. “No, Peter, we are not going to train you to kill _anyone-_ ”

I slapped my palms on the table. “The damn school is called Corbulo Academy of _Military_ training, what the hell else is it for?”

Papa rose slightly from his seat, his stiff finger close to my nose like he was pointing a knife. “You watch your tone when you're speaking to us, young man!” He ordered. When all he received from me was silence and a deep- but compliant- frown, he sat back down and took a deep breath. “We're not going to train you for military purposes.”

I pressed my tongue in my cheek until I was sure that my voice wasn't going to come out snappish. “Okay, fine, then. Why am I going to this Corbulo place if not to train to kill?”

“Because you lack discipline, kiddo,” my Uncle Magnus replied, which was funny that he did so because I didn't think I was asking him anything. “You keep vandalizing shit even after the police keep catchin' ya. And your fathers keep giving you chances to redeem yourself, but you're just fucking up every single time.”

“True,” Mum said with an affirming nod. He sighed again and opened his palms on the table. “We tried everything we could to help you stop this nonsense. We tried to send you to therapy, we tried reasoning with you, we tried punishing you without taking away all of your freedom, we tried giving you a little more freedom and space so you could calm down, but all you do is show that you aren't willing to change, and...”

“And what?”

“And now, we have to use our last resort.” At my hardening glare, Mum gave a reassuring wave of his hand. “But- but it's not all that bad! It's not bad at all!”

“It's actually pretty great for you.” I jumped and yelped at the sound of Uncle Lukas's voice so close to my ear. I almost asked when the hell he walked over to me without my noticing, but he picked up the pamphlet and played it again, speaking over the annoying audio. “When we were kids, we were all a little unruly and were sent there for training and discipline.” He gestured to Uncle Emil with his free hand. “Heck, Emil is going there right now, and he's going to graduate with excellent manners and flying colors. The school is magnificent, and we all think you should go.”

I looked to Uncle Emil, whose jaw was too tense for someone who agreed with Uncle Lukas's lauding of the school, but a good little trained pup doesn't speak out against his training, does he? I frowned and stared at the table's shiny, polished surface.

“...Do I get a choice in this at all?” I asked in a soft voice that I truly hated.

“If you couldn't clean up your act and show some self-restraint when we asked you to,” Papa said, “What makes you think you're allowed to have choices in this matter?”

“Stop saying that I'm out of control!” I shot out of my seat, causing my fathers to rise as well, and for Erland to step back with a frightful- if not a little bit amused- gasp. I pointed behind me to the front door, indicating the house down the street. “That Edelstein pansy blasts music like it's no one's business, _and_ comes over here to shag your son in the tool shed-” I pointed to Erland- now gawking at me in sheer horror- then jabbed a thumb at myself. “But _I'm_ the one who lacks discipline, huh?”

“ _That Edelstein pansy_ \- I mean-” Mum shook his head and rubbed his fingers on his temples, glaring when he heard Uncle Magnus laughing softly behind him. “That Edelstein _kid_ is none of our concern. Let Rod and Liz raise him however they choose; you are _my_ son, and therefore, I'm responsible for _you_!”

“Oh, my god, I can't believe this!” I rolled my eyes and threw my hands in the air. “That's some great parenting for you! Your kid sprays a little paint on a couple of abandoned walls? Send him to military school so he can train to kill the big bad boogeymen from outer space and _possibly die from the battle_!”

“ _For the last time, Peter, we're not sending you off to war_ -”

“And you're not sending me to Corbulo, either!” I took the pamphlet from Uncle Lukas and threw it to the ground, giving it a stomp that didn't do much damage (damn, what a tough little plastic board). I ignored his shocked gaze and shoved past him, heading up the stairway leading up to the upstairs bedrooms. My stomach was churning and twisting as my fists shook at my side. I couldn't believe the _nerve_ of those-!

“It's either you go to Corbulo, or you'll get sent back to Arthur.”

I stopped cold in my tracks and turned around, my breath stuck in my chest as I stared into Uncle Emil's eyes. Mum was obviously whispering to him his displeasure over mentioning my older brother as he swiftly swatted Emil's shoulder, but Emil walked away from him and around the table, following me to the stairs and stopping just at the bottom, his stance firm as he looked up at me with knitted eyebrows.

He just stood there silently, as if waiting for me to object, but when I was too chilled from the threat to even think of anything to say, he went on, “You've been pissing everyone off with this vandalism shit, Peter, and we've given you enough chances to change your behavior-”

I finally found my voice and used it to spit at him, “You stay the fuck out of this, Emil!” I then started turning back.

“-If you don't go to Corbulo, you're going to be shipped off to Arthur-”

“Shut the fuck up-”

“Or to a foster home!”

I stopped again, this time keeping my focus on the step ahead of me instead of looking into my uncle's eyes. This was not making the knots in my stomach any better.

“Because you know damn well that that's your only choice until they can find Arthur. And you know he's going to be really fucking pissed that he has to be pulled out of the war to babysit his damn teenage brother.” I heard one of the steps creak behind me, and another, but it stopped, and Uncle Emil's voice was too close for comfort. “Or you can go to this school for a couple of years- or just a semester- until you get your act together, kid.” Did this guy, who was only a couple of years older than me and therefore still a child himself, call me a _kid_?

From the dining room, I can feel the rest of them holding their breath and keeping silent so their ears can pick up on what I had to say. Of course they were; what else could they expect after that big speech and, admittedly, impressive ultimatum. If I had felt any humor, I would've turned to him one last time and gave a slow, sardonic round of applause before really storming out of there, but nope, no humor detected at all. Instead, I whispered softly, “Fuck off,” and continued on.

Although I would've love to come up with a more clever retort than “fuck off”, my mind was a bit too preoccupied to work up anything better to say. I can use the map in my watch to conjure up a good, short route to take, as well as find some suitable hostels to stay in for a while until this all blew over, or until I reach the legal adult age to be able to officially move out on my own, because I was sure the former wasn't going to happen soon. All I need to do was quickly pack some essentials and whatever money I had saved from Arthur's letters and from my odd jobs-

I reached my and Erland's bedroom door and froze, my mind so shocked by what awaited me on my bed and on the floor that the plans flew right out of my head. I could hear someone walk up behind me, who gently placed a hand on my shoulder, saying with a voice as if he was genuinely regretful, “We, ah, already packed your bags, kid. You're going to Corbulo...”

-

I wondered when Mum was going to take a hint that I wasn't listening to him and that I didn't want him to keep trying to console me. All throughout the train ride, I kept my mouth shut and my face angled from him, my arms crossed over my chest and my body turned stiffly away as he kept trying to touch me and hold me, and tell me how it won't be so bad, and how it's actually a lot of fun. I'm so glad that my uncles and Papa could take a hint better than this one; during the drive to the station, everyone was trying to cheer me up, telling me how good it will be for me and how I'll learn a lot of great things, and be able to follow in my fathers and brother's footsteps, about how this can be a sort of initiation into the family since they all went here in their younger years.

One by one, their persistence died when it dawned on them that I wasn't going to give them any attention, not even a wave goodbye from the train window as my uncles saw us off. They all realized that they shouldn't bother. Except for, of course, Mum, who kept squeezing my shoulder and smiling at me.

“You know, Peter, I bet that not only can you learn a lot of amazing skills in Corbulo, but you'll make a lot of really great friends, too!” He was saying. “I met your father there and we were the best of friends before we got married. Oh! What if you get lucky like me and find yourself a cute little girlfriend or boyfriend?” He looked at my face through the reflection on the window, probably hoping to see a hint of a smile on my lips or a spark of excitement in my eyes, but I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

I couldn't, even if I was merciful enough to do so to ease his worries; one slight twitch of my face, and tears might start falling down my cheeks. My eyes certainly itched enough to threaten the possibility of me crying, and after that fit I threw at home upon finding out that my “choices” weren't really choices at all, I couldn't appear like a weak child. I'm not a weak child, and they weren't going to get that from me.

So I kept my gaze hard out the window, watching the mountains and archaic power lines pass by from far away. After a few minutes, Mum finally grew quiet.

“...Peter...”

I closed my eyes so he wouldn't see me roll them. Dammit, the peace and quiet was so close...

“Peter, please talk to me. It isn't good to be quiet for so long...”

I still kept my eyes close. Not like I was missing much of a view; it was all mountains and trees and dead power lines, anyway.

“I know you're not asleep, Peter.”

I pursed my lips. I was actually a bit tired, now that Mum mentioned it- the train ride was pretty long, and the view passing by was so lulling in its boring repetition- but I didn't think I was trying to pretend to sleep. I shook my head slowly, hoping that it would be good enough of a response for him to leave me alone.

“Son, please stop being so stubborn.” I felt his palm on my shoulder once more.

I quickly gripped his wrist and yanked his hand off me, finally taking my eyes away from the window to glare at him. “Stop it. Just. Stop.” I dropped his hand onto his lap and focused my attention back out the window, but I can already feel a wet streak down my cheek. I sniffled and bit into my bottom lip. _Godammit_.

“Oh, Peter, no.” Not one to know when to call it quits, Mum leaned in and wrapped his arms around me, pulling my head onto his shoulder. I wish I hadn't let him, or at least tried shoving him off for show, but- and a huge fucking curse to whatever made me this way- once I start crying, my body will instantly give up on the notion of defiance just to have someone hold me, even when my more rational mind just wants to push everyone away and let me sulk alone.

Mum rubbed my head and stroked my bangs back. “Hey, Peter, it's going to be okay,” he said in his soft voice, as if not just a few hours ago he wasn't the one to give me the pamphlet and seal my doom. “It'll be fine, you'll see.”

“What was the fucking point of that damn discussion?” I said. Damn, I wish my voice would stop fucking break and had actually shown my anger. That “discussion” already felt so far away, like a nightmare that I had woken up from shaking like a leaf. “Why didn't you just say-” I stopped to sniff and hiccup “-Why didn't you guys just say, 'Hey, we're going to send you to Corbulo today, and you have no choice so get ready to go'?”

I can feel Mum shrug with his unoccupied shoulder. “We never said you had a choice, Peter. In fact, we said the exact opposite.” He smiled forlornly. “But still, I'm sorry we had to break it to you in such a rough and unexpected manner.”

“Why are you even apologizing to him is the bigger question.” I didn't look up, but I can definitely tell that Erland was speaking from across the seats. “Let him cry and blubber like a gigantic baby all he wants, it's not like you guys are sending him to _prison_.”

I lifted my head from Mum's shoulder and glared at him. “ _Don't you have some Edelstein cock to suck?!_ ”

Erland slapped the pamphlet into the empty seat next to him and started to lunge at me. “Shut your fucking ass up-!”

Mum jumped up and blocked Erland before he could move any further. “Erland! Don't!”

Erland sent a silent glare to me and sat back down, picking up the pamphlet and playing it over again.

Mum returned to his seat and gripped my shoulder hard. “And you, Peter, don't be so vulgar!” He looked around us and chuckled nervously at the car of passengers looking curiously our way. He waved a dismissive hand at them all- only a few actually went back to minding their own business, the rest of the car waited for more juicy scandals to eavesdrop in- and tilted my face so I could look down towards him.

“Peter, please, for the love of God, do not say things like that out loud,” Mum ordered in his softest yet most demanding voice. I tried turning my head away, but he cupped both my cheeks and forced me to face him. “Listen to me, Peter. You're being overly dramatic, and it's for no reason. Corbulo is not a bad school, and honestly, you really could have been punished worse than getting an excellent education at a highly prestigious school.”

I nodded and gave Mum a tight-lipped grin. “Yeah, we all get a little something out of it! I get trained to kill enemies I haven't even seen before, and you guys get to have me out of your hair, tucked away in some fucking institution where I won't bother you anymore!”

Mum's eyes widened for a split second and then rolled up to the train car's ceiling. He shook his head and looked around the car, as if he was trying to decide which part of what I said he wanted to address. “Son-”

“How long were you guys planning on shipping me off, anyway, huh? And how much did Arthur pay you guys to finally send me to that hellhole?”

Mum gasped and snapped his horrified eyes towards me. “Peter, we would never-!”

The train car's door slid open, and Papa appeared with ice cream cones in his hands. He slid in the empty seat next to Erland and held the cones out for everyone to take. “Okay, so the train didn't have many flavors,” he began, “but I got the closest to everyone's favorite. Strawberry for Erland, pistachio for you, dear, and chocolate with fudge bits for-”

When he held the cone in my direction, his eyes met mine, his eyebrows furrowing at the tears still streaming down my face. He cast a questioning glance towards Mum and back at me. “What happened-”

I banged my hands against the armrests of my chair, almost hitting Mum in his shoulder when I wasn't seeing where they were going. “ _Oh, my god, just leave me alone!_ ” I then rubbed my sleeve on my face to clean away the tears, stiffly turned away to the window, and crossed my arms over my chest, making sure that my back was fully turned to Mum and Papa, as uncomfortable as it was in that upright seat.

Our little seating area grew silent, save for Erland replaying that damn comm pamphlet with its pretentious as hell trumpet tooting, until I heard Papa whisper to Mum, as if I wasn't right there in the fucking small seating area with them, “What happened while I was gone?”

-

A few more quiet hours passed during the long ride- in which Mum finally got it in his head that I do not want to talk at all, and Erland was just softly “ooh-ing” and “aah-ing” at that damn piece of square plastic- and the train finally slowed into our destination. Boy, was it a blessing to finally stop; it was hell being stuck in that suffocating car filled with strangers eying us for the next raunchy, explosive outburst between me and my stifling family, and I really need to exercise my legs and fix my back after remaining in that aching sitting position for such a long stretch of time.

Once the train pulled into the station, I jumped right up and stretched and twisted my body a little. “Well, let's get this over with,” I yawned, already heading to the nearest exit with everyone else and blending into the crowd.

There were shouts of “Peter, hold on a second!” and “Wait for us!” somewhere back there, giving me an odd sense of satisfaction as I hopped right over the little stairs and onto the steel station platform. My eyes were closed as I took in a big whiff of fresh outside air, my chest puffing out and my stiff shoulders arching back with a couple of relieving cracks.

But then I reopened my eyes to actually see the surroundings I stood in, and I found the curse of our newest stop: trees. Nothing but tall green oaks and pines lining the sides of the train station and tracks, reaching the clouds like barbed-wire fence in those old-fashioned prison movies, the ones that only the truly desperate tried to climb over or dig under for freedom, something that I'm so tempted to do right now. And I know that it was too early to tell since we just got here, but there wasn't a damn building in sight, save for the actual station itself and a couple of booths and public restrooms.

Count your blessings if you aren't one of those people who are so obsessed with a beautiful hobby like my spray painting, that your body doesn't react terribly with the knowledge that you can't do it anymore, because as I tried to spot at least some sort of large building with a blank wall, my trigger fingers began itching fiercely, my nose already craving that strong acidic stench of spray paint to put my mind at ease.

Isolation. They were going to isolate me and have me trained to kill or be killed over a god damn painted wall. I turned back to the train, retrieved my bags from the space underneath our car, and started looking around, but any movement was instantly discouraged by a firm grip on my jacket's sleeve. I briefly closed my eyes again and exhaled through my nose. “Where the hell am I going to run?” I pointed out in my most derisive tone.

“Not sure,” Papa said with equal, if not more, derision, followed by a contemptuous chuckle from Erland. He turned me around and gently shoved me to another direction. “But we're all heading this way, so...”

Looking around me at the actual people instead of the trees that made me feel like an inmate going in for execution, I finally realized that an entirely separate crowd- with everyone as old as me or close to my age- were walking towards a dirt path cleared within the forest. I tried to follow the path with my eyes as far as they could peer into the dense forestry, but they strayed further and further up until I noticed something that made my mouth run dry. The trees sloped up to a mountain.

I'm going to be trapped in isolation on a damn _mountain_.

As I stepped closer to the path- more like pushed to it by the iron grip of a man whose old military strength still hasn't left him- there appeared to be a traveler bus...two...three, parked alongside the path's edge, and standing out beside each of their doors were stiff-looking guards dressed in the same manner as the students in that comm pamphlet Erland was so fond of, each of them with a clipboard in hand. The sides of the buses had plaques bolted to their sides, with a certain set of letters carved into the silver surface. My family headed over to the bus with the “H-O” plaque, where the guard there looked both me and Erland over- glancing at my brother in confusion as he noticed how too young Erland looked to even be a Freshman- before looking down at his clipboard.

“Student name?”

Mum pressed a hand to my back and silently urged me to reply. I hitched my bag up and looked away while muttering, “Peter Kirkland.”

“Kirkland.” The guard gave one nod as stiff as his uniform and pointed to the bus, allowing all of us inside.

We took our seats, and with Mum taking the window seat so I couldn't have anywhere else to force my attention on, I started playing with my fingers as we waited for everyone else to file in their assigned buses before we took off for another ride. With the buses filled, our guard walked inside too and stood in the front to watch everyone as he introduced himself. I wasn't particularly paying much attention to him as well, but I heard something about “Captain Ludwig Beilshcmidt” and a “guide.” Ah, so we didn't have prison guards in this school after all.

Even with my eyes fixed on my fingers and the leftover paint underneath the nails- and my Mum thought I wouldn't find some other way to ignore him- I could still make out the scenery running past with the corner of my eye as the bus began to move. Still trees. Nothing but trees. Why are there so many goddamn trees? There was never this much forestry back at home, and we lived right near an orchard in the farming district.

After a good ten minutes of the buses climbing the straight, sloping dirt path while Captain Beilshcmidt droned on about the things we already knew about Corbula, we finally reached a point in the road where my eyes picked up on sparser trees, clear blue skies, and-

Buildings?

I finally raised my head and looked out the window past Mum's profile. Closer to the forest were some concrete huts- which I guessed were the Academy's recon stations judging by their insignia and telescopes- but a little further off, I could see more of the campus, buildings made of glass and with higher stories. When we followed the bus ahead of us into another branch of the road, we turned into a path that started heading straight to the campus area, which gave me a clearer view of what it looked like. Not only were there the facilities that, I assume, held classes and offices and labs, but there were wind turbines and lakes, as well as huge communication dishes sprinkled here and there, the tallest of the comm dishes standing next to an even taller tower right in the center of these complex architectures.

I angled my head in pure astonishment as the center tower drew me in, like a worshipping zealot gazing at their idol of gold. “Whoa,” I whispered, my tone lacking the high enthusiasm compared to Erland's hushed yet excited squeals and questions in the seat in front of us.

“That's the Orbital Elevator.” Mum smiled when I sheepishly tried to keep my straight, bitter face up, but failed from my fascination. He joined me in watching it and let a dreamy, faraway look come to his face. “Your father and I were the only few lucky ones to use it for aerial combat training and orbital launching back then, among other privileges.” He glanced sideways at me. “If you work really hard, you'll be granted access to it, too, while you're here.”

I made a half-frown. “Work my ass off and earn As just so I can ride an elevator? Sounds like a deal.”

Mum shook his head and resumed giving his attention to the guide. “You'll see.”

The closer we got to the main campus buildings, the more uniform-clad students we spotted either roaming around and getting to their destinations, or in mid-training. I can feel my heart strain in my chest watching the students during their exercise, jogging and jumping and barrel-rolling around on the grass, as if I was already suffering that torture with them.

The buses finally lined up in a cleared parking area, where all the passengers dragged their bags out from under our seats and clambered out after our “captains”/guides. When we gathered around Beilschmidt, he folded his arms behind his back and raised his chin, looking so stiff that I humorously imagined him being ironed out by a faceless sergeant like some sort of starched up tee shirt.

The image lost its humor when I realized that I was going to be next.

Somehow, Beilschmidt's gruff, thick voice rang clear above the shouts from captains barking orders to their students. “This is Corbulo's Main Campus building. It was raised under the supervision of the United Nations Space Command to train our students for the most rewarding positions in the military, as well as prepare them for battle in defense of the human race and our allies.”

I bore a steely, pointed glare at Mum, whom tried to avoid my eyes.

“In this particular area,” Beilshmidt went on, “we hold the most important activities for our young cadets, such as lectures, physical examinations, and halls for meetings to share news of the current battle between us and the Insurrectionists. If you all will please follow me.”

Beilschmidt moved through his tour group and led us inside, with Erland eagerly skipping ahead of the family as he sported the most ecstatic grin on his face (and, since it greatly differed from his usual cocky smirk or irritable scowl, it was pretty creepy). I watched over my shoulders as the other groups headed in different directions, possibly to prevent overcrowding. In that same, strict tone of voice he used during the bus ride up here, Beilschmidt briefed us on the type of rooms the academy had here, along with the curriculum the school had to offer (and I will admit, I was a bit intrigued when he mentioned technological studies).

We went into the cafeteria, where I smelled lunch being prepared in the kitchen that left my mouth pooling with saliva, the lecture rooms – with some really state-of-the-art holographic tech that made the ones my former school seem so obsolete – and even out to the plaza, just as the other group left the open foyer into the next building over. The pool centering rectangular pathway was so crystal clear that I imagined myself touching it and feeling the soft clouds in the reflection; not even the blank cinder block walls that needed a little paint job drew my attention as much as that little pool of water did.

Ludwig dragged us out of the plaza and back into the prison, stopping in the middle of a grand hall. Because I was pulled away from that beautiful little lake, the good mood I tried to build back up dropped instantly to the point where I was back to slumping sluggishly along with everyone else. I was so deep in my funk that I didn't notice much around me, not the other groups who joined us again, or the new member of our tours until he spoke in the oddly similar gruff voice as Beilschmidt:

“Welcome, our new hopefuls of Corbulo academy! I am the dean and the Overseer, Commander Jermaine Beilschmidt!”

Well, that certainly explained why they shared the same voice. The commanding tone and authoritative title drew my eyes away from my shoes and to the man who, looking like an older version of our group's guide, stood among the escorts posing in attention in his presence.

Jermaine used his height to add a powerful intensity into his stare as he glanced down at each and every one of our faces. “Here, you will be trained to your utmost potential. Here, we will wring every ounce of trouble and fear out of your body and replace it with diligence, knowledge, and unity that will aid you in protecting your family, friends, and race from any oncoming attacks of the Covenant. We at Corbulo have a legacy to uphold, and as the new generation of fighters, strategists, and protectors, that legacy will be passed onto you.”

As Jermaine spoke, even more uniformed students came pouring out of doors, marching (or it seemed like marching, they were so damn stiff) with steel bins in their hands that held the academy's black logo in the front, along with a set of letters below it. These students placed each one at the feet of the student guides and just left. What the hell?

Jermaine started to pace with his arms folded behind his back. “In Corbulo, you are individuals, yet one. Your individual skills and intelligence will be honed to aid in the cause, which many of you may already know as children or family of previous Corbulo students and veterans of the war.” At that, Jermaine's hard gaze seemed to linger on me, seeing one of the greatest fighters, Arthur Kirkland. He turned sharply towards the escorts.

“As for now, you will all line up according to your school tour guide, who will pass you the forms you need for class enrollment, as well as your room assignments and captains who will serve you as mentors through these semesters. Tomorrow, each of your future will begin anew. _Axios!_ ”

“ _Axios!_ ” The uniformed escorts echoed proudly.

I looked around as everyone started to shuffle into lines and swallowed. I tightened my sweaty grip on my luggage handle. I jumped when I felt a hand gently clap my shoulder.

“Oh, room assignments!” Mum cooed. He turned me towards him and gave me a tight hug. “That's our cue to go, son. Have fun and be nice, okay!”

His words, kind and fatherly as they were, slammed into me like a pile of falling bricks, crushing my voice as I stammered, “W-what...”

Then Papa moved in to give me a hug to. “Make sure you actually eat your vegetables, and study hard!” he said when he pulled away. “Don't disappoint Arthur.”

“But… but…” I was so lucky that the tears I felt prickle in the back of my eyes didn't come to the surface.

“Say goodbye, Erland!” Mum said as he took Erland by the arm.

“Ugh, how come he gets to be in such a cool place like this,” Erland mumbled instead. Mum rolled his eyes and started to pull the now-sulking boy away from the forming lines. “I get good grades, I get stuck in the farm, but when he gets in a shit ton of trouble...”

Their backs grew smaller and smaller the further they walked away, leaving with the rest of the families, not even looking back when I murmured, “Wait, no...”


End file.
